


Comes to Those Who Wait

by Marvelouslife



Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool Vol.1, Deadpool Vol.2, Deadpool Vol.8: All Good Things, Despicable Deadpool, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: Read Vol.2, Truths behind him, Wade's got problems, you'll know why I write the thing I write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 07:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15505608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelouslife/pseuds/Marvelouslife
Summary: Wade's has another breakdown, injects himself with the serum, and now has to fight his way through his memories if he ever wants to get out. A psychosis meltdown for the mercenary, but there's been a change in plans.





	Comes to Those Who Wait

    He woke up strapped to a chair. The world around him was dark with only a hanging lamp above his head as a source of light. His vision was blurry, but his arms were tied up, he couldn’t wipe the blurriness away. He groaned as his leftover conscious returned, and he lifted his head to see where he was. He was definitely in a place he could not recognize, but was familiar with. He sighed as he shook his head to wake fully, examining his restrains by the feel to find a way out of then. He already thought of how he could break loose by breaking the chair. It would be slightly painful, figuring he would have to front flip forward to gain enough momentum to break it. It could possibly snap his neck, but he wasn’t worried about pain, he wasn’t worried of Death.

      He thought of who his captors. They either want him alive, or knew who he was. It would be impossible though, he didn’t know who he was. For a split second it had came to him but immediately was gone. He wondered what he was doing in this dark room and why. There were many people who had grudges against him, all wanted him dead. He tried over and over again to kill himself, to get himself killed, but to no avail. He was cursed with this “blessing” that he never asked for. Cursed to live the life he has, to never be free from the chains keeping him tied to this Earth although his mind was eons away. Death was his only escape, but he could never have it.

     He was getting off topic. He needed to remember what he was thinking, but he couldn’t help thinking of his hunger. 

    A growl from his stomach, and he began salivating. The non-existent aroma reached his nostrils, and he craved mexican food. Tacos, chimichangas, burritos, Tequila. Tequila would be nice. Drink until the pain goes away. But it never does, his healing factor made sure of that. He could never get drunk no matter how much vodka is consumed. No matter how much barbicide he drank, he couldn’t get himself to Death. Death was so close, but so far. His hands couldn’t reach out far enough for Death. Her boney fingers grazing his distorted flesh.

     I really have to stop thinking of Death.

…

    The aroma began to overwhelm, the smell getting closer. The mexican food was inbound, but he could not see who was delivering it. He heard the sound of footsteps, specifically heels clanking against the hard floor. He drooled as the food got closer, the figure beginning to make shape. It had to be his captor, Bob maybe. It would be a classic joke of Bob to kidnap him. Of course, he would have to punish him for it. Nobody, especially like Bob, can kidnap____ and get away with it.

   The names on the tip of my tongue.

… 

   Bob’s a funny guy though. Hate admitting it to him, but he’s one of my closest pals, I’d even consider him a best friend of mine-

    “Deadpool,” he heard the voice of a woman. He looked up to it was a white faced woman with a black eye holding a chimichanga on a plate. Deadpool laughed, before having the plate served to him. The woman with a black cat suit on placed the plate on his lap. It was warm, and considering how cold the place was, he was glad she placed it on his thighs. He tried reaching down and taking a bite of the fried burrito, but with no luck. It wouldn’t be the first time he tried reaching his head down to his thighs. He was a strange adolescent growing up, and while everyone else around him were having sex; he was experimenting in his own way… 

      “Where am I pretty lady,” he asked before reaching down and getting a lick of the chimichanga. It was savoury in his mouth, and he couldn’t wait to get an actual bite. She knelt down in front of him, placing a hand on his knee. She lowered her head in regret before finding the words necessary, rubbing his knee for comfort. 

    “I… I need you to remember. Can you do that for me Deadpool?” 

    He smiled, “anything for you-did anyone tell you the white brings the black out of your eye? It’s  really sexy,” he purred to her sensually. She removed herself from his touchable distance. She’d expect it from Deadpool to make a cheesy compliment such as that, but it wasn’t a  _ terrible  _ compliment. “Hey, keep rubbing me that way and I’d believe there was something else you were trying to rub,” she sighed. As usual, he ended up betraying himself with his degrading remarks which would bring her standards back up. She laughed to herself before pulling her pistol out of its holster, and aiming for Deadpool’s head.

    He jerked back in surprise, “I’m sorry lady, I didn’t mean to rub you the wrong.” He laughed at his not-so-clever pun hysterically. The woman didn’t make a sound to his terrible humor, only staring unamused.  “Oh come on Domino, all that build and not even a chuckle. Where’s the rest of the team, I’m sure Masacre would find it funny.” Domino smiled, he could remember her afterall. 

   Who am I?

… 

   Deadpool he recalled. She called him that, and he called her Domino. Who was Masacre? He remembered him speaking spanish and wearing a red suit. “Where am I-Domino?” He was already forgetting her name. Who was she again?

   “You’re in your mind DP. Where I would never call you DP or rub your knee.” She shook her, Deadpool knew Domino would never do or say those things.

   “Oh. Then can I make this chimichanga fly into my mouth?” She shook her head, “double oh. How do I leave?” She took a second to think about it.

   “Just  _ remember _ , I’ve got luck on my side,” she left him with the food resting in his lap. She walked in the shadows of his mind, never to return, The woman’s name already escaped his brain. He did remember her calling him DP. That stood for something, an acronym for a name he couldn’t say. If he thought long and hard enough, maybe he would catch it.

    He missed his Mercs for Money. They were a solid team with a solid leader. They were an unstoppable force-could’ve ruled the world if they wanted to, with the guidance of their stoic leader. Sure, they had their ups and downs, done some bad things for loose change, but it was all in good fun. That’s all that really mattered, to Deadpool anyway. Spending time with his team, having a few laughs, a few memories to share with people who could relate. It was a time he couldn’t forget, a time he didn’t want to forget but-

   Docs medicine… 

    Kill me now, I can’t live another minute like this.

     I want to forget.

    -

    Deadpool stopped. The memory of how he got here came to him.

   Bartol Utler… 

   The medicine did wonders for him. Take it once a day, and the pain will go away. He’d forget what the doctor did to him, as long as he was on the medication. Slowly, but surely, he would start to remember. The torture he endured, and he’d remember being shot with  _ medicine _ to keep quiet. He hated it. He couldn’t recall anything by the end of the day, and he wanted to recollect some memories. He promised himself the day he’d escape, would be the day the doctor dies. A slow and painful death would be educed to him. 

    He almost forgot where he was. His mind thought.

    Would it be thoughts if I’m inside my mind?

   The chimichanga was in his lap. He wanted a bite but couldn’t get it. It was the only thing keeping him from freeing himself. The chimichanga looked delicious, and he didn’t want to ruin it. His mouth was watering from the smell alone, his hunger building. His mind didn’t dwell on the matter long, he was already beginning a new subject to think about. His skin was horrendous. He didn’t recall looking like a rotting corpse that was set on fire. He didn’t know what he looked like, but the skin, it wasn’t normal. Part of the healing factor mixed with the cancer.

   Cancer. That’s what his condition is. That’s what got him here. He was crazy because of it. Well, one of the reason he’s crazy, but he was crazy long before the cancer settled in. The cancer was only karma, a cause and effect of his misdeeds. He was a terrible person, and he knew that. He could thank his father for that. He always believed he was a horrible creature of this Earth that didn’t deserve a second of air to breathe. His self-esteem was lowered to lowest denominator that he concluded he was the worst being on this planet. Everyday he worked hard to make it come true; becoming a mercenary, killing people, killing innocent people for money.

   “I am the scum of the Earth, and I deserve everything bad thrown at me-” he said with sadness and remorse. He lowered his head in shame in deep regret of what he’s done.

    “Wade,” he heard another woman call him. Her voice was robust, she was a clearly put-together character. He lifted his head to see a shadow walk into view of the light. He noticed it was a large black woman with navy blue jumpsuit with the symbol of a bird stitch to the right side of her chest.

    “I thought it was DP?” Deadpool! That’s what it stood for… but she just called him Wade. He was mixing his words with that of the omnipotent narrator, but he didn’t realize what he didn’t understood existed. He was a fourth wall breaker, but he couldn’t remember any of it.

    “Wade is your name, Wade Wilson, and I need you to remember.” She placed a hand his shoulder, “you can’t forget okay. You’ve got a family to come home to,” he looked up at the large figure as she leaned closer, pushing his chair on its hinds. 

     “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I like you,” he felt an immediate connection to this big lady. Maybe it was stature, it gave off a sense of safety and security. “Do you know why I’m stuck in my own mind?” She looked like she had all the answers he would ever need, she could be trusted and he didn’t know why. She released him, crossing her arms over her chest and stepping away.

      “Your brain’s missing more screws than usual, and we’re trying to screw them back on tight. We can’t do that without your help,” she said in sorrow. He had gone off the deep end, and she wished to pull him back. 

       “There’s no more help left for me. That ship sailed long ago when I killed Coulson.” A flash, and the memory came back. He was helping Captain America, but something wasn’t right, the Captain wasn’t right. He was bad, evil. He was part of Hydra. Wade’s eyes widen in realization of what he did. Everyone hated him. He thought he was doing right, but he was wrong. He was doing a mistake. He was a mistake… 

      His father never loved him, it was why he was abusive. The resentment he had for his son, and his son’s own confusion for why he hated him so much. It made Wade’s character. He couldn’t be loved or cared for, so why not give people a reason to do so? At least then he would know why he was being resented. He wouldn’t be scared or confused once he knew he had control of the situation. Give his father a reason to hit him. Throw one of his empty beer bottles back at him, get in the way of television, look him in the eyes. Only a few acts done by Wade which caused brutal beatings from his father. A belt, a lamp, his fists, a bat. They were all the same, the feeling was all the same. It’s hard getting out of old habits, and nothing has changed.

     “Preston… “ he remembered, lighting her spirits. “I’m so sorry,” he was a mistake, and he apologized for ever being apart of her life. He was the bane of everyone’s existence. Preston, Domino, his father, he should have died as an infant. 

    “Please, don’t apologize,” she asked in desperation. “Do you remember what happened?”

   “It’s still very fuzzy, but I remember some,” Preston walked behind him, untying the rope that bonded him to the chair. “My name’s Wade right? Wade… Wilson?” He stuttered the last part, having to think hard on what his name was. Memories were coming and going, things were disappearing as soon as they came. “Where’s Benjamin? Where’s Michael?” Memories fading in and out, he had to filter through them all.

    “I’m glad you can remember some of our family,” she laughed as she was getting the final knot out.

     “Our family? We have a family together?” It was all being wiped away, and he was starting to forget.

    “Yeah, you retired from Deadpool. Stole us a yacht, and asked us to live there, which I still don’t authorize.” Wade laughed, recalling the moment. He felt the rope loosen, and he slipped his hands out, standing up and stretching. He immediately forgot the chimichanga in his lap and watched in dismay, the fried burrito fall to the ground. He yelled for his burrito, but it had contacted the ground. He dropped to his knees, mourning over his food before tossing it aside. Preston willingly comforted him as he mourned and rubbed his bare back.

    “I know Wade. It’s sad, that burrito would’ve been good.” It didn’t matter anyway, nothing truly matter. He could live in the moment now, being upset over the food he didn’t need or want but he wasn’t. He would live forever regrettably, life passing before his eyes because he didn’t need life. He needed Death. Death was all he wanted, but he wasn’t granted the wish. It was more than a chimichanga that upset him, it was his life. The fact the wo=man even cared about his feelings was a sign that he was doing something wrong.

    He removed himself from her touch, he didn’t want to feel loved. She sensed it from his sudden cold shoulder. “You want to help me, but I don’t need it,” he said coldly. She stepped back from the disconnection between them. She blamed herself for what’s happening to him. She should’ve stopped him, but she was stuck in her own mind to worry about what he doing to himself. She had to try fixing it in the best ways she knew how. “I belong here, far away from any of you,” he  couldn’t look in her direction.

    “I only hope she can bring you back to your senses,” she lowered her head in guilt. Wade remembered his time with Preston, it was visible. How much he cared for her, too much for his mind to handle. Even in death she was on his mind, hallucinations of her before her spirit was put in his brain. Their relationship wasn’t as close as it is now back then, but he had attachment issues and she was unfortunately his victim. He didn’t want to have a relationship any longer, he cared for her and that was not an option for him. He had to get rid of it, delete it from his file. Erase it from memory.

    I’m gonna miss you Preston.

   “Daddy!” Wade’s eyes widen in shock as he turned around to a little girl running towards him. A smile formed on his face as he fell to his knees, opening his arms up. She ran into his embrace, her little arms barely reaching around his body while his arms kept her tightly close. She had a warm glow to her person that lit the room, he could feel it relieving the ache in his bones. 

   “Ellie,” he could never forget his little chocolate baby. Her beautiful brown eyes, little curls of baby hair, her applecheeks. She was a spawn from heaven who somehow came from him, he couldn’t forget, no matter how much serum he injected. She was the light of his day. Someone he could live a second day for, just to see her smile. She was the hope that maybe he wasn’t as horrible to be able to have a child as wonderful as her. “Ugh, you don’t want to see me like this,” he realized he wasn’t dressed in his typical red outfit. His scarred skin was fully exposed to her, including his face. He tried covering his skin with his hand, but she put his hands to his sides.

    “I don’t care about that,” she kissed his forehead, “you’re beautiful the way you are,” she said sincerely.

    Wade laughed, “you’re so weird,” he petted her making her laugh. “How was your day,” the first question he always asked his daughter. 

    “Well, there was a little murdering here, some bad guys there,” she mimicked which they both chuckled to. “It was fine, but I really want to know how your day went.” His smile lowered in realization of where he was.

    “I’ve seen better days,” his eyes lowered in sadness. He would like to stay in the fantasy for a bit longer before giving it up.

     “Wanna talk about it?” She asked innocently but he frowned, making her frown.

     “I want to, but I don’t want to hurt you,” to see her die, would crush him. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself. She’s his everything, and if she were to perish, there would be nothing stopping him from making the world perish. It reminded him of his darkest times, where his insanity brought him to an unreachable level of crazy. His fourth wall breaks. Too much of it, and he could go on a rampage, slaughtering everyone in the six-one-six universe. Nothing would hold him back, not even the writers. It was best to erase his memory, to keep him from getting to that state of psychosis. 

     “You can tell me anything daddy,” she was desperate to know what made him depressed.

     “You know I don’t like when you use that word,” he was beginning to push her away like everyone else. Her head dropped from sadness and she nodded, agreeing to his wish. 

     “Okay… Deadpool,” who was he truly protecting? Her or himself?

       “I’m sorry. It’s just these memories. I don’t want you to get hurt by my recklessness,” he stood but Ellie tugged on his white shirt. 

       “I promise I won’t get hurt,” she said anything to make him stay. A small smile formed on his lips.

        “It’s not a decision you can make,” he said sorrowfully, preparing to forget she ever was apart of his miserable life. He was pulling away from his daughter, but she held onto him, dragging his shirt down. 

         “Please,” she cried, “don’t leave me,” she cried into his shirt. “Remember ____, please,” she begged him. He turned to her in surprise before falling on one knee as he held her by her arms.

      “What did you say,” he said concerned. She wiped her tears away and her sniffles.

     “Do you remember? Your name?” Tears still rolled down her cheeks, and she stuttered through her words.

      “Wade?” He wiped the tears for her, but she shook her head. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. She cried into his shoulder from the fear that seeped in which made her cry harder. He comforted his daughter, patting and rubbing her back as she cried. He couldn’t stand to see her upset, but he didn’t know how to make her feel better. Her crying slowed as she calmed herself.

      “Please d-daddy. W-we’ll be waiting f-for you. Just come back to us.” She continued her cries.

     “I will,” he’d say anything to keep her from crying. “I swear,” he promised her. Her crying stopped, and all that was heard was quiet sniffles and silent hiccups. She wiped her nose as she rested her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes as she day dreamed of her life with her father.

     “Okay,” she said her last word before disappearing into the shadows, her bright light fading away. The warmth of his daughter gone, he knew he was alone. He fell on all fours, the weight of the crippling depression pushing down on him. He was going to forget, just what he wanted. To forget. His friends, his family, all to be soon abandoned.  He knew it was for better, but it hurt his soul to know he was giving it all up. He wished he could hold on, but he would protect the ones he loved if he never remembered he had loved ones. Better if he forgotten his name.

   What was that again?

      DP came to mind, but that left him as well. Who was he again? He could not recall for the life of him, or where he was. Where was he? Why was he here, who brought him there? 

      I’m sorry Ellie, I’m sorry I failed you.

    He felt a single tear fall from his face. For all the people he lost today, it was the last time he would remember them, it was something to grief for. He mourned for the lost of everything he had worked hard to never achieve but received. He thanked the cruel writers who gave him a chance with those wonderful people who spent even a second with him. It was more than he deserved and he was thankful he had the chance. It was time to erase it all, they escaped his mind and the sadness left his body.

    … 

     He felt a familiar warmth surround his body. The sadness was gone but the memories were still there. He didn’t understand, he wanted them gone but they still rested in his shattered mind. He remembered Ellie, Preston, The Mercs for Money. X-force, X-men, Cable. He remembered his father, the bad and the good memories. He didn’t understand why he didn't forget. Maybe not enough serum, maybe he needed more. But he took it all, there was none left for him to take. He couldn’t remember one thing; his name. “Lift your head ____” he did, seeing  a woman whose light illuminated the room. He recognized the layout of the floor. The same Lazyboy, and big back television. The piles of empty beer cans thrown on the floor, and the dishes in the sink. This was his home.

     The woman’s feet didn’t touch the ground. She was in a white nightgown, but the golden glow made it look like a elegant dress. He was  mesmerized by her shine, but she was familiar to him. Her blonde curls and green eyes brought a sense of safety to him. She pulled him to his feet, “can you remember for me? Your name?”

     “I-I can’t,” he tried hard, but it was coming to a blank. She placed her hands on his shoulders, staring at him warmingly. Her touch was warm, and her smile brought contentment. His body and mind was at a halt, frozen by the woman’s stare. He knew that look.

      “Take off the red suit that reminds you of every kill. You use the blood to hate yourself. Forget the skin that scars your face. You use the disgust to shield yourself. Look into your broken mind, and find yourself.” He did, and found nothing.

      “I am an abomination,” there was so much pain left for him to feel. “I won’t die, so I’m trying to forget,” he couldn’t lie to her. 

     She placed a hand on his cheek, “no.” She shook her head, “you’re afraid of this world, for what it’s brought you and plans to bring.” His head leaned into her hand for comfort, “it’s okay to be scared. To not know the unknown; loving, being loved,” emotions he wished he didn’t have and other people didn’t give him. 

     “I don’t want mercy or pity. I want to be punished for my crimes-”

     “Because you’re not used to being forgiven,” he nodded his head. He looked over to the Lazyboy, remarking on the times his father sat there. The few times he got to sit on the floor next to him, and have his hair petted affectionately. The few times his father would come home from work, and tell his son a funny joke. Each time was a short moment of heaven. It filled him with hope that life wasn’t as bad as he thought it to be. That he could come home after a brutal beating at school, and laugh it off with his father. 

     Maybe the memories were meant to stay. To cherish every last one of them, the good and the bad. They were all important, for his survival of this world, so he wouldn’t be scared anymore.  “What is your name?” She asked him again.

     “I don’t know. Deadpool, Wade Wilson-” those were the names he remembered but she shook her head. 

     “What is  _ your _ name,” she stared into his soulless eyes. Her eyes were full of life and the answer stood in front of him. 

    He took a step back in realization, “ _ my  _ name?” She knew he saw it in her familiar eyes. 

   “Remember who you are, and you can find your way out.” Her figure faded into the shadows, dimming the room. He could see only the chair and the lamp hanging above it. He took a seat in the chair, staring off into the distance. He saw a burst of light blind him as he was leaving the deepest parts of his mind. He was heading back to reality as he repeated the name over and over again.

    He felt a hand grab his wrist. His body was tugged awake, and he managed to open his eyes. He saw a man wearing a red mask with a black web covering his face. He recognized him to be Spiderman. Next to him was a black woman who he recognized to be Preston. They both looked at him worriedly, he seemed to be in a bed. He heard them calling his name, his incorrect name. He sat up, his head throbbing and they both took a step away from him. “Can you remember who you are?” Preston spoke up first, knowing the circumstances fully unlike Spiderman, only knowing the half of the story.  

    He took a moment to remember who he was, recalling the woman  and their conversation. “My name is… “

_ Jack _

**Author's Note:**

> Read Volume 2, and you'll know where I'm coming from. ALL of Vol.2 I'm not playing, EVERY SINGLE PAGE.


End file.
